Bruised Muse
I boldly begged my bruisèd Muse
to give me something I could use
to make a poem out of faster
than this dubious disaster.
She turned her back. As she refused,
she said she hated that I’d asked her.
I boldly begged my bruisèd Muse
to give me something I could use
to make a poem out of faster
than this dubious disaster.
She turned her back. As she refused,
she said she hated that I’d asked her.